


i'll make sure that it was slow

by miamihorror



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miamihorror/pseuds/miamihorror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say not knowing is half the fun; Daichi is a firm believer of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll make sure that it was slow

**Author's Note:**

> just a drabble for now bc i'm still attempting to get over writer's block with this idea, also trying out a sort of different writing style mm we'll see how that goes

What was it about early morning jogs that Daichi had come to take pleasure in?

 

The crisp morning air tingling on his exposed skin, watching as the goose bumps pop up on his forearms? The white puffs of air that take shape with his every exhale? The throbbing in his veins, the rush, the ache, the _thrill_ he receives, as he pushes his muscles past the edge of exhaustion, to run past his limit and reach the stages of flight?

 

Or was it for the silence, the one he could never seem to get enough of, that kept him company while the trees blur above and the clouds stretch on like long strings of cotton candy?

 

He can’t put a finger on it. He’d rather not.

 

They say not knowing is half the fun; Daichi is a firm believer of it.

 

But when his alarm blares with the shrill sound, the bright screen illuminating the bags under his eyes, Daichi finds himself dismissing it in exchange a few more minutes under the sheets, his cold feet pressed against lanky legs. He turns when he feels the mattress shift under another’s weight, a yawn spilling from the other’s lips.

 

“Hey,” Kuroo slurs, blinking the fatigue out of his eyes. His hair still sticks up in the most peculiar angles, and Daichi smooths a hand over the tresses of Kuroo’s so called bedhair. “Going for another jog?”

 

Daichi leans over to press a kiss to his forehead and Kuroo’s eyelashes brush against his cheek. He feels Kuroo move to place his lips above his closed eyelids, his way of returning the favour, and Daichi hears his breathing slow to match Kuroo’s heartbeat from under his palm. “I’m not feeling it today,” he says, his voiced hushed as if afraid of getting caught. “Something’s keeping me from going.”

 

He opens his eyes and flicks them over to where Kuroo’s arms are wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to absorb more body heat. His hands act as large brands, leaving invisible marks against his skin and tracing maps across his stomach. Kuroo chuckles slow and easy, and Daichi thrives in the sound as they stay tangled in one another.

 

He’s aware that his beat up runners are waiting for him, caked in mud and decorated with leaves from each season, and his ears pick up on the muffled calls of crows outside the window, the ones that he stops to admire and watch as they soar, pushing themselves higher and higher with each beat of their wings. The heart monitor peeks from behind his alarm, shying away the scene unfolding before it.

 

If he were to wear it at this moment, would it detect how many beats his heart makes with each passing breath Kuroo takes to fill in the room? Would it have detected the way Daichi’s heart hammered against his chest, threatening to burst from his ribcage, when Kuroo slid the brass ring on his finger that one fateful night, when his hands trembled so much that he almost missed, and his eyes expectant and hopeful? Would it know how fast his heart transports blood from his toes and back up when Kuroo whispers sweet nothings into his ear as they make sweet love, slow and steady?

 

Daichi doesn’t know; he doesn’t want to know.

 

He believes that not knowing is half the fun, but he doesn’t need the knowledge.

 

 “Who needs to jog at ass crack o’clock anyway,” Kuroo mumbles, snapping him out of his reverie, and shifts closer to bury his nose into the crook of his neck. Daichi busies himself with the cowlick forming on the crown of Kuroo’s head, the little tufts of hair reminding him of bat wings. “’Sides, there’s no rush.”

 

Daichi pulls the sheets to cover Kuroo’s exposed shoulders and plants another kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re right,” he murmurs, and he feels the arms squeeze tighter around him. Sparing the clock one last glance, Daichi returns to the quiet greeting of a good morning as his world breathes evenly behind his eyelids.

 

“There’s no rush.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is from real slow by miami horror bc i'm not creative
> 
> thanks for reading!


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